


Moonlight

by fragile_dreamer



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragile_dreamer/pseuds/fragile_dreamer
Summary: 'I sigh shakily and he holds me tight like never before, tighter than he did the day we said goodbye. I feel his hand run through my hair and I know that I will do everything to make him stay this time.'Three years after the summer in Crema, Oliver and Elio get the chance to fix things.





	Moonlight

I remember everything so well, still so sharp and clear. I rewatch this moments in my mind sometimes, like an old movie you can never get enough of. I will never get enough of him, even now, when he is gone and belongs to someone else. 

The last time I've heard from Oliver was when he called to announce his wedding. Nothing broke my heart more than hearing him say how much he missed me, not because I thought he wasn't honest - I knew he was, I could tell from the way he whispered the words straight into the telephone, like he wanted to be with me instead, whisper them into my ear. It hurt so much because I knew it actually didn't matter, he could miss me with his whole heart, but there wasn't anything we could do about it. We both realised we'll probably never see each other again, never feel each other's soft, wandering touch.  
I just closed my eyes and breathed, murmuring my own name over and over, not even knowing if he was still listening. 

Elio Elio Elio Elio Elio... 

That was our last time.

***

Me and my parents always spend summer months in Crema, that hasn't changed. The students don't visit anymore, and I know that the reason behind it is mostly my dad's care for me. He knows that it would remind me of what I had with Oliver, and he is right, always right. I still find pleasure in coming back to our house though, playing the old fancy piano, laying on the sofa with my mum and hearing her read poems in foreign languages quietly... There is only one place I can't go to without feeling heartbroken, the place that I used to call 'mine' in the past. Just a small lake, with it's clear, cold water. The place I first showed Oliver, where we first kissed, nervous and excited. It feels too painful, even now that I am twenty and should be over what we had. If I ever come back to the lake, it's going to be with him. Thinking about Rome also hurts a lot, getting drunk with him and making out on the streets felt too close to real relationship, something we could never have. But this is different, and the lake is within my reach. Maybe one day I will go there and enjoy the sun reflects on the water again, but for now this place belongs to us both in my heart. 

***

After a week in Italy, I sit on the floor in the sunny living room and scribble down some of my ideas for a new piano piece, when I hear the phone ring, loud and demanding. I frown as I put the pencil aside, it's too early in the morning for anyone to be calling. I stand up and reach for the phone, expecting to hear apologies, but instead all I get is silence. Then suddenly a bright voice asks:

'Is that Mr. Perlman?' 

I almost put the phone down, and I swear my heart beats far faster than it should be possible. The courage to speak doesn't seem to come, and the voice repeats:

'Hello? Is anyone there?'

I gather all my energy and weakly breathe out the only thing that comes to mind:

'Oliver... It's me.' 

There is a long pause before I hear someone swallowing and he says:

'Elio... It's so good to hear you, I was thinking about you.' 

And I know he means it, just the way I knew the winter night when he last called.  
We talk for a while, he asks me about university and my dad, and I answer rather reasonably, for all I want is to tell him how much I want to see him, breathe him in.  
It's like he somehow reads my mind, because he stops talking for a moment and then says:

'Do you think your father would mind if I came visit soon? Just a few days.'

I hesitate just for a second.

'He wouldn't indeed. I wouldn't, Oliver.'

I know I've probably said too much already, but it looks like he doesn't notice. 

'Thank you, I... Or, you know what? Later.'

'Later, Oliver.' I whisper before ending the call. My dad finds me an hour later, with my head against the wall. Without asking, he just sits next to me and holds me.

***

It seems almost unreal, him calling us all of sudden. I don't know if I'm feeling joy, honestly, hearing his voice was more like tearing a nearly healed wound open again. I lie in my bed at night, restless, trying to remember how his lips felt on mine, hot and promising. When he comes... IF he comes, I'm not sure if I will be able to treat him casually, like a regular guest. Maybe he wouldn't want that. Three years ago he whispered 'I remember everything', and the memory brings both sorrow and a strike of hope. Three years ago... A century ago. 

I look out of the window and silently hope he knows that I would wait for him as long as he pleased. For Oliver I could wait endlessly.

***

When the day comes, I feel sick.

I don't want to go to the train station, but my parents are both unable to - mum twisted her ankle a week ago and dad has to meet another profesor in the afternoon.  
The thought of seeing Oliver again, having to deal with it all by myself is overwhelming. I wonder if he's changed a lot since the summer. Three years is a long time after all. 

The train arrives with a loud whistle. The station is almost empty - not many people expect guests here, in Crema, early in the summer. My throat is suddenly dry, and my eyes fix on the ground. I hear laughter, and then sounds of a suitcase being pulled after someone.  
And then he is standing right in front of me, looking unsure, but pleased.

He hasn't changed as much as I thought he would, it's only his hair that's a bit longer, and his muscles a little more defined, but other than that... His smile, eyes, everything I adored stayed the same.

'Elio, it's amazing to see you.' 

I feel like breaking down immediately after he speaks, but only nod, attempting to smile at him. He touches my arm and before I can stop myself, I reach out and put my hand on his chest. His flannel shirt is soft under my fingers, and I swear I can feel his hearbeat, but that might only be an impression of my sick mind. The mind that wished for this to happen every single day since he's left me.  
He looks at me, like he is torn, but then pulls away slightly and shakes his head. I nod again, not knowing what to say. We silently gather his luggage and walk towards the house. 

***

We eat breakfast together every day, read books on the same sofa, go shopping into the town. We are never really alone though, and he doesn't seem to care enough to try to talk to me in private. The room situation is exactly how it was that summer, three years ago. There weren't any other options, but it still isn't making things easier to handle. 

Each evening I absolutely can't fall asleep, knowing that he is just on the other side of my wall, so on the fourth night after his arrival, when the midnight strikes, I decide to go to the balcony. Watch the stars for a while maybe, I haven't done it in such a long time. Crema is beautiful at night, if you can look. I step out and take a breath, feeling the chilly summer air fill my lungs.

I would lie if I said I wasn't hoping for Oliver to be there as well. I also prayed he would knock on my door at night, or just come in without asking and sit on my bed, explaining why he didn't give any sign for so long. I wanted him to do all this things, but there was just me and the cold light of the stars, beautiful and cruel, mocking me.

I couldn't believe when my prayers seemed to actually be anwsered. Maybe I was dreaming all along. 

'Elio?' 

I search for him for a few seconds, before my eyes adjust to the dark. Then I see him - standing there, on the other side of a balcony, shirtless and breathtaking, smoking in the faint moonlight. 

'Elio.' He says again, quiet and soft, and every wall I've built starts to come down. He sighs, closing his eyes and then slowly, carefully asks:

'Come here?'

I close the space between us in two steps and wrap my weak arms around his waist, just as a dry sob escapes me. I've been holding it back for so long, all I fucking needed was a single word from him.

'Oliver, why did you come?' I whisper, feeling more vulnerable than I've ever had. God, he could do anything to me. 

'You know why... I had to see you. Fix what I've ruined. Say how much I care...'

'Do you? What about your wedding and...'

He interrupts me by putting a finger on my lips. I feel the urge to take it into my mouth, taste the skin, but it's too early for that.

'I never got married after all, Elio. I couldn't forget about you and what we had... Angelina was a clever woman, she knew there was someone else in my mind.' 

I sigh shakily and he holds me tight like never before, tighter than he did the day we said goodbye. I feel his hand run through my hair and I know that I will do everything to make him stay this time.

'Let's go to bed, alright?' He asks, and I just nod weakly. He takes my hand and guides into his room, where we lay on top of the covers, looking at each other in the dark.

'Elio' 

I breathe, touching his cheek and he shudders, before replying:

'Oliver' 

***

A few days later we bicycle to 'my' place together. I asked him to come with me and told about my inner promise, and he agreed right away. He knows how much this place means to me, and I think it means as much to him. 

We swim in the cold lake for a while, even though it makes our limbs go numb, and then lay in the grass, letting the sun dry our skin and warm us up. I feel Oliver staring and me, so I turn my head into his direction as well. He leans in and brushes dark curls of my face, smiling fondly. 

Without thinking, I take his face in my hands and press our lips together, feeling the electricity run down my spine. It's different than it was years ago, slower and filled with more emotion than it was back then. I roll onto my back, and he deepens the kiss, softly biting my bottom lip.  
We are both smiling as we break apart, and I decide to ask:

'Do you remember our first time here?'

He kisses my cheek, open-mouthed and hot, and then says:

'Of course I do, Elio. That's like a new beggining.' 

'Okay, a new beggining.' I repeat, taking his hand and lacing our fingers together.

'So...' he whispers into my skin '...call me by your name and I'll call you by mine, Elio.'

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> I want to start with a big THANK YOU to anyone who's read that. That means a lot to me ❤ Now let me talk about CMBYN.  
> So, I've watched the film two days ago and it honestly is amazing and (unfortunately) heartbreaking. I haven't read the novel yet, but I am definetly going to buy it, since the movie was already so beautiful. The ending made me cry, and I wouldn't be myself if I didn't write something where things go differently. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> This fanfiction is probably the most simple thing I've ever written and I can't stop feeling like it's far too short, but I won't add anything. I want to keep it raw, scenes changing smoothly, like in a movie.
> 
> Special dedication to Timothée Chalamet, I fell in love with him after watching that movie and his interviews with Armie.
> 
> And another special dedication for my best friend who watched the entire movie with me, and even thought I don't think she loved it, I hope she will like the story. This fic is shorter especially for you, bitch! 
> 
> \- Alexandra


End file.
